A Lonely Nightmare
by Sarah Taggart
Summary: A RogerMark story. Mark's vantage point.


I had a dream last night.

Roger came into my room extremely late at night. It was a cold night, and I could see my own breath as he approached me. He was trembling.

"Mark," he whispered, "please help me."

I knew what he meant. He had lost April only three weeks ago and was struggling deeply with his effort to drop heroin. He badly needed a fix, by the looks of it. Even in the moonlight, I could see how pale he was. But he was also so beautiful. I couldn't stand seeing him like this. I wanted to reach out to him, tell him how I feel, but how am I supposed to do that after all he's been through? I searched for something to say to him.

"Um, climb in." I motioned to the empty space in my bed. Maureen was "busy" tonight, she had said. More like out fucking other guys. She was mad at me that I didn't want to go to her rehearsal tonight, but I didn't care. Roger needed me here. Or maybe I just wanted to be here for him.

"It hurts." he groaned.

"I know. Shh. It's okay. I'm here." I desperately tried to comfort him. It was no use.

"I'm so cold. I need a little more, Mark, just a little more. Please, just let me this one last time. I just need to forget."

"No! You can't! You've been so strong for almost a month Roger. Just stay here. I'll keep you warm, I promise."

"Tomorrow would have been her birthday, Mark."

Damn. I had forgotten that. What was I supposed to say? There isn't anything to say in a situation like this. I reached my arms out to him and he fell into me without hesitation. He was weeping at this point. His tears were warm on my chest.

It was so hard to see him like this.

I searched for his hands and gripped onto them. They were clammy. I stroked his gorgeous arms up and down trying to console him. When I pulled my hands away, they were smeared with blood.

"Fuck! What the hell is this, Roger!" I looked at his bloody arms.

"She would have been twenty tomorrow."

"I don't give a shit what _would _have happened, Roger! I care what _did _happen! Why did you do this, Roger?"

"Mark…" he began to trail off. He was fading quickly.

I gently threw him off me and sprinted toward the phone. I picked it up and began to dial 9-1-1.

But the line was dead.

I hadn't paid the phone bill. They had sent me three notices already. Dammit. I had to get him to the hospital, somehow. How?

I ran back to my bedroom. Roger's limp body was sprawled on my bed and his blood was staining my sheets.

Panic coursing through me, I stumbled over and tried to lift him. I could barely get him off the bed. Shit.

"Roger! Can you hear me?" I nearly screamed.

No answer.

"ROGER!"

He was motionless. His eyes were shut tight and he felt colder and colder as I held him tightly in my grip. I was losing him.

I felt for his pulse in a frenzy of fear and desperation.

Nothing.

"Roger!" I shouted, "open your eyes! Look at me! Oh God Roger, please, look at me!"

He opened his eyes briefly and gave me a look I couldn't read. Did he even recognize me?

His eyes closed again.

"NO! Roger! Roger! Hold on! Please!"

He couldn't. I could literally feel his spirit leaving the room.

My tears fell, but I couldn't even feel them.

I woke up in a cold sweat.

Maureen was asleep next to me. My eyes were tear-stained. They stung. I rolled out of bed, trying to grasp what I had just seen in my mind. I had to go to him.

I came out of the room and there he was, sitting with his Fender in a depressed ball on the floor. He looked up.

"Hey." He yawned.

Never in my life have I seen a more beautiful site then his deep green eyes looking up at me. There was still life in him yet. I could see it. His eyes were regaining their spark I had always adored.

"Wanna hear what 'I've written so far?"

"Sure." I sat down on our shitty-ass couch, trying like hell not to tear up.

He began to play his song. It was a work in progress. In fact, it sounded remarkably like something I had heard before. A waltz? I couldn't tell.

"It's…cool" I said.

"Come on, Mark. It's shit. Don't lie".

I grinned. He smiled back at me. The first smile I've seen on him in too long. I couldn't help myself. I got up and walked toward him. I bent down, and wrapped my arms around him. I loved him so much.

"Mark, what the fuck are you doing?" I pulled away.

But he was smiling. I laughed. He was going to be okay.

I got an idea. I looked at him

"Who's up for some Cap'n Crunch?"


End file.
